


Ketch Gets a Clue

by kadyfalls



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, F/M, M/M, Multi, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, POV Second Person, References to Clue | Cluedo, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 04:10:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16360508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadyfalls/pseuds/kadyfalls
Summary: A (potentially) sexually explicit Choose Your Own Adventure story set in the Clue mansion. You are Arthur Ketch...





	Ketch Gets a Clue

**Author's Note:**

> It seems relative links are not supported, so please scroll to the proper section heading to continue when you see "goto". Thx bye!

# YOU ARE HERE

You sit behind a hand-crafted, luxury steering wheel, silent but electrically charged to the surroundings. You arrived at the mansion minutes ago, taking your time to quietly survey the grounds from here. Power has been lost in the storm, it would seem. The darkness left behind is so absolute it is almost suffocating, but with your well-trained senses, this is, of course, an advantage. You indulge for a moment, enjoying that anticipation that portends a hunt, a ritual pleasure. The moment passes as you hear a muffled shatter from within the manor that demands your attention. In one well-choreographed sequence, you slip out of the Bentley, grab your pistol, and attach the silencer as you advance toward the front door. Anticipation has smoothly transformed into confident action, and that confidence is merited. You are Arthur Ketch, after all.

You make a mental review of the case: An unknown player named Mr. Nobody has arranged a dinner party which intel suggests will be attended by several notable monsters that have been actively sought by the Men of Letters. You are here to determine exactly what the end game is and, if at all possible, exterminate the subjects of concern. Just as you begin the climb to the portico, you hear a pop and several lights within the house come back on. You swiftly maneuver the stairs and press your back to the door, listening for activity. Satisfied that the entryway is clear, you gingerly test the doorknob and find it unlocked. With due caution, you open the door and step inside, immediately matching your surroundings to the map you studied. You note the broken pieces of an exquisite crystal vase, knocked from a console by the library - the noise you heard just moments ago. You divert yourself toward the library, and observe that the door is slightly ajar, a light on within. You strategically reposition, and nudge the door further to reveal a pale, evidently lifeless body on the fine Victorian rug. There is no indication of an immediate threat. You prepare to enter the library when you hear muffled voices - two, at least - coming from the billiard room further down the hall.

If you investigate the body in the library, goto INVESTIGATE LIBRARY.

If you continue to the billiard room, goto THE BILLIARD ROOM.

* * *

# INVESTIGATE LIBRARY

Pausing to judge the urgency of the voices in the billiard room, you determine that the dead body is the more pressing matter at hand. You slip through the door ready to engage, but the room is clear. Relaxing only a bit, you approach and kneel down, making a clinical review of the evidence. The young woman shows few physical wounds, aside from patterned bruising around the wrists, which had clearly been bound. You notice the trajectory of the rope burns and further conclude she had been hanging. With a quick glance at the ceiling and wall, you identify a sturdy antique sconce as the likely anchor. You look back down at the body. The pallor of the skin suggests significant blood loss, yet there is no blood here. Just as you conclude that this is the work of a djinn and turn to rise, you feel its fingers contact your temple and its palm press down against your cheek. You curse yourself for letting your guard down and move to resist, but a warm sensation spreads through you like light, and you succumb to the relief it provides.

You open your eyes, serenely waking from deep slumber. You are sitting naked in an extravagant bed, with just a sheet draped across your lap and your back against a tall, mahogany headboard in a lavishly decorated bedroom. As you ease further into consciousness, you realize your hands have been bound together and tied to the center post at the top of the headboard - with your quite expensive silk necktie.

“Hey, where'd you go?”

You look over and see Mary climbing onto the bed, expressing a playful, mock annoyance at having lost your attention. She is wearing cheeky, low-rise knickers with a skin-tight tank in killer red, matching her lips. You eyes trace the little valley up from her bare hip bone and curving along her well-defined abs. The top does nothing to hide her taut tits, and seeing her hard nipples sends a rush of excitement through you. She very much has your attention now.

“That's more like it,” she says, authoritatively, seeming satisfied with your reaction.

“Mary, what-,” you begin, but are interrupted when she moves closer and drags her finger down over your lips, swinging one knee across so that she is now straddling your thighs. Her proximity is enough to send your blood racing, and the path of her finger electrifies so that as she pulls it away you try to follow, feeling the resistance of the constraints. You reflexively let out an audible, desperate sigh and feel your cock stiffen beneath the sheet. She scoots closer and lowers herself until you can feel her right above you, grazing your hard dick. She weaves her fingers across your ear and into your hair, then lets her hand slide down behind your neck, pulling you just slightly forward, enough that the necktie tugs against your wrists. As she leans into you, you feel her pelvis shift, rubbing the tip of your cock and causing another moan to escape as you badly want to be inside her. She now has her lips against your ear, and you breathe her in, with her cheek against yours, her body brushing against you with every slight move.

She whispers… “You're mine now. You get that, right?”

Without waiting for a response, she reaches her free hand down, lifts herself up, and firmly grips your erection, still covered by the bed sheet. You grunt as it sends your blood rushing down. “This,” she adds, “is mine.”

She begins slowly but heavily stroking you, while the hand on your neck works back up through your hair, then guides your head back. She eagerly kisses your neck, sending thorough you a blinding desire to fuck her. You turn your head to her, seeking her lips, and move to grab her, intending to throw her down on the bed and take control. Instead, the tie digs further into your wrists. Just as your lips find hers, she pulls out of reach, moving both hands to your shoulders, and laughs.

“I told you,” she says, looking you over, then meeting your eyes. “This one's mine. But, I think you'll like it.”

With that, she pushes you back against the headboard and kisses your chest. She maneuvers her knees to be between your legs and works her way down your body, tasting your skin with her lips and tongue, straight down your chest and over your abs. Her hands follow, with her fingertips playfully lingering over your nipples. You roll your head back and close your eyes, enjoying the sensation as much as the anticipation. As you feel her working mouth reach the edge of the sheet still covering you, you open your eyes to watch her. For a split second, you glance over and see a body crumpled on the floor next to the bed - a sight that startles you and nags at your memory. “Wait, Mary…,” you say to draw her attention, but when you look back, you see nothing there.

“Ketch,” she moans in response, and flicks her eyes up at you. You look down to see her messy blonde curls between your legs, and you can feel her warm breath through the sheet, exciting you as she hovers over your cock, her cheek intermittently brushing against it. Your pelvis heats up once again and you inhale sharply in expectation. Her hands find the sheet and tug it back, exposing you. Her lips are the first thing to find your thickened cock, already throbbing, and you watch as she begins slow, heavy kisses. She brings one hand to hold you firmly as she kisses her way toward the tip, and presses her other hand against your pelvis, pinning you down. “Oh...,” you sigh, as her tongue begins soft, wet licks around you, tasting you. She takes her hand and begins steadily stroking you, from the top down, sucking on the tip of your dick between strokes. Her other hand moves to the base of your cock, adding pressure that sends a rush of pleasure through you, bringing you closer. You instinctively pull your hands down, wanting to run your fingers through hair, guide her, but your binds keep you at her mercy. “Oh god,” you moan, with your eyes glued to her as she starts to take more and more of you in her mouth. You can feel her tongue softly tracing you, and a warm wet pressure as she sucks her way up repeatedly. She finds a faster rhythm, now going deep enough that you can feel the back of her throat. The muffled sounds of her sucking and moaning bring you to the edge. “Mary, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” you warn her, on the cusp. She takes over with her hand again, keeping pace while she looks up at you.

“Beg me, Ketch. Beg me to make you cum.” She slows her strokes, kissing you teasingly in between.

“Mary... god, please…,” you blurt out, desperate for her to continue.

“You heard me, Ketch. BEG!”

You look down at her, your blood racing, and see her eyes challenging you. “Please, Mary… yes, I beg you. Please…,” you whimper.

“Say it. Say what you want me to do, Ketch. Beg me.” She speeds up just enough to send waves through you again, keeping you close.

“Yes. FUCK! Yes. Please, Mary... make me cum. Suck my cock until I cum in your mouth. Oh god, I’m begging you, Mary. Please... “

“Good.” She smirks, and with her eyes still looking up at you, she wraps her mouth around you. Warmth rushes through your body as she takes you in. “Yes… god... right there. Don’t stop. I beg you…” She speeds up the pace ever so slightly, using one hand to hold you, and using her other to place slight pressure on your taint. Your whole body is tight with sheer physical pleasure, and watching your cock disappear into her red lips is enough to finish you. “FUCK… oh god... I’m gonna cum, Mary…” You barely finish the words as your whole body seizes and releases. You instinctively cry out and feel your cum shoot into her mouth, your cock pounding. After a moment, you fall back against the headboard and watch, fascinated, as she swallows and cleans you off with her tongue. She climbs up, pulling the sheet over both of you, and tucks herself into your shoulder. “Well,” she laughs, looking up at you. “That was fun.”

“That is… quite an understatement,” you reply sincerely. You move to put your arms around her and are once again reminded of the tie binding your hands to the headboard. Bound hands. You quickly look over and see the girl's body on the floor again. The body. The djinn. You remember the djinn now, reluctantly realizing this is all simply its construct. Your dream. You feel Mary shift against you, her head on your shoulder, and struggle to resist the illusion. You run through your mental exercises, staying focused on the discarded body and mentally reconstructing the library you know you're in. The fantasy begins to fade away as your consciousness snaps back into the old room. You now see the djinn, with its back to you. Your hands are indeed bound with rope above you, hooked over the sconce. Your feet reach the ground, though, and you concentrate on willing them to move. You manage to get them beneath you, and use the leverage to lift up and unhook yourself from the wall. You are not as sturdy on your feet as you hoped, however, and your legs collapse beneath you. You fall to your knees with a grunt, catching yourself with your tied hands. You look over at the djinn, which has heard and turns toward you. You have a clear path to the door, but are unsure you can move fast enough. Your only other option is to stay and fight.

If you run for the door, goto ESCAPE LIBRARY.

If you fight, goto ENEMY FIGHT.

* * *

# ESCAPE LIBRARY

You wager that you have a better chance getting away than fighting in your current state. You stumble forward, ignoring a shooting pain in your ankle, which seems to have twisted in the fall. Just as you reach the door, you feel the djinn grab your leg, causing you to trip and fall hard on your elbow. You yell and curse with the new stab of pain, kicking the djinn and crawling back toward the doorway. The djinn is quickly back on you, however, and you feel it wrap a length of rope around your neck, yanking you back. Your hands immediately grasp at the rope. You use your leverage to jerk your body to the side, struggling to flip your opponent to gain an advantage, but you do not have the strength left. Before you can attempt another maneuver, the djinn once again lays its hand on your temple. You choke in audible frustration, desperate to resist, but ultimately feel yourself slipping into its illusion. You know in that instant that you have lost.

“Ketch,” Mary says, looking up at you. You wake with a bit of panic in your chest, but it slips away when you see her. She still rests against your chest, but she has untied you, and now your arm wraps around her back and waist. You bring your other hand up to brush a stray curl from her face, then rest your palm along her jawline and look in her eyes.

“Mary, I've never…,” you stammer, wanting to say more but unsure of the words.

“Ketch,” she whispers again, placing her hand on yours. “it's ok. I love you.” She moves in, but hesitates. You finish the thought, wrapping her in tight and guiding her lips to yours. You kiss her first gently, then again deeply. When your lips finally part, she drops her head on onto your shoulder, and you rest against each other. You feel a wave of exhaustion take over, and your awareness begins to slip. Deep in the pit of your gut, you understand that you are somewhere else, dying - but you no longer care. Right in this moment, which seems to last forever, you are truly happy, for the first time and until your last breath.

THE END

* * *

# THE BILLIARD ROOM

While the body in the library is certainly of interest, it can wait. The voices beyond are growing in urgency and the situation could require immediate intervention. You quickly divert to the billiard room, careful to avoid stepping on the broken crystal. You listen at the door, with your pistol raised and ready and your free hand resting on the door knob, awaiting the next rise in the conversation. Before it arrives, you hear a loud, heavy thud from the kitchen down the hall. Just as you consider heading there, the voices inside the billiard room become agitated.

If you investigate the voices in the billiard room, goto INVESTIGATE BILLIARD ROOM.

If you continue to the kitchen, goto THE KITCHEN.

* * *

# INVESTIGATE BILLIARD ROOM

Unsure the noise in the kitchen was anything at all, you turn your attention back to the billiard room. You smoothly burst into the room, aiming your weapon in the direction of the voices.

“Don't move,” you order. There are only two in the room, a man and a woman, mostly likely in their late twenties. Looking distressed, they are now chaotically yelling at and around you.

“Wait! Don't let-,” the man shouts urgently. Before you can interject, you hear the door slam forcefully behind you.

“Stay back,” you snap, threatening. Keeping your eyes glued to the couple, you back towards the door. You grip the knob and torque it, feeling immediate resistance. For good measure, you also press your shoulder into the door, which does not budge. You relax your stance against the occupants, who now appear to be your cellmates.

“Well then,” you say with a nod, accepting that you are locked in. Looking around you see the girl roll her eyes and slink back, pouting her full lips and resting her narrow hips back against the billiard table. The man drops his shoulders with an exasperated sigh. Both are glowing with sweat, and you notice with some annoyance that it is exceptionally warm in here.

“Anyone… care to fill me in?” You look between the two expectantly, eyebrow raised. Looking defeated and running one hand thoughtfully through soft brown curls, it is the girl who finally chimes up.

“We were here hunting a shifter. Tailed it to this mansion.”

“Ah, hunters then, are we? No offense, but you don't… look the part,” you smirk. In fact, you'd already noticed, with due appreciation, that both dressed smartly - he in a basic form-fitted v-neck, tight, slim-fit khakis, and chic square-toed boots, and she in a flowing modern cut halter over skin tight jeans, with high-heels and dangling earrings. Laying playfully next to her on the billiard table is a two-toned red Fendi purse, sensually curved and quite exquisite. Indeed.

She glances at her partner before continuing, seeking and receiving his approval almost imperceptibly. “Technically, we're witches. I'm Alicia, this is my brother Max.”

Banes. The twins. You are aware of them through your research on the American hunters. You hide any hint of recognition, but regain some of the tension you'd released. They are, in fact, quite powerful. You nod for her to continue, and she does.

“We had just cornered the shifter when the power went out. She - it - slipped away. We split up, Max went upstairs. It attacked me in the hall, then ran into the dining room.” That explains the vase, you note. “I was able to slip a hex bag onto it, used an immobilization spell. I… I killed it. Max came in right behind. We left the body to clear the house. The lights came back on as soon as we came in here, but the door locked behind us. Fuck…,” she added, clearly exasperated. She wiped her forehead, now glistening. You feel yourself glistening as well, and decide the heat is unbearable. You rest your revolver on the billiard table and take off your suit jacket, laying it aside carefully. You loosen your tie, pull it off and ceremoniously fold it before setting it down. As you unhook the top three buttons from your shirt, you observe Max watching you.

“Yes. Alright then. But why is it so bloody hot in here? And why did the door lock?” You are asking both, but keep your eyes fixed on Max. Sweat has begun to bead up on his temples. He has been quiet, and appears to be a bit rattled from the shifter. He speaks up. “Radiator seems to be broken. As for the door… we have no idea. Spells aren’t working either.” He toys with the neckline of his t-shirt, failing to cool himself. Sweat is starting to soak through the front of his shirt, and he slowly slides his hand down his chest, testing the extent of it. He continues, “It’s been a long day. I just want to get out of here. Have this be over. Relax.”

“Well. We may be stuck here for the moment,” you respond, rolling up your sleeves. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t relax.” You walk to a shelf of liquor and inspect some scotch. “Yes… this will do.” You take the bottle and three glasses and walk back to the billiard table. You look at Max then over at Alicia, “Care to join me?”

Alicia hesitates, but follows when Max accepts the offer with visible relief. You pour a drink for each, raise your glass. “Cheers.” While you luxuriously sip the fine scotch, holding its warm spice on your tongue for a moment, you see Max put away the entirety in one shot. “Whoa…,” you say, moving closer to take his empty glass. Your fingers graze his, and you let them linger before taking it. The contact sends an electric energy through you, and you can feel the heat radiate from his body. You swallow hard and continue. “This all about a shifter?” You study his face as you pour him another.

Alicia pushes herself off the table and kicks off her heels as she approaches. “The shifter had taken my form,” she explains, with a note of sympathy. “He basically watched me die. But, I'm fine! Except for this heat.” She rests her hip on the table next to yours and looks you over. “Looks like is getting to you, too….” She sets her hand on your shoulder, dragging it down around the spots wet with sweat. The light touch causes a flutter of excitement. You study her face, draped in curls, as she is looking intently at your chest. You can feel her wanting, and why not? When she finally looks back up at you, you reach out to guide her closer to you and kiss her. You let your lips linger for a moment, and watch her reaction as you settle back. She responds with a pleased gasp, then looks guiltily over at Max. He finishes a sip of whiskey, taking his time with this one, and seems unbothered by the interaction. He sets down his glass and leans in from your other side. “I think we're all a bit overdressed for this heat,” he says into your ear, his sweat-tinged cheek inches from yours. You feel your blood pump feverishly through you now, sensing his presence. He brings his hand to your open shirt, following the seam down and grazing your chest. He reaches the still-fastened shirt button and tugs it down. You register Alicia moving away and you turn your head toward Max, letting your lips hang in front of his, and inhaling sharply as you feel his fingers manipulate the button open. He presses into you with his body as he meets your lips, kissing you repeatedly, firmly, and deeper each time. At the same time, he unbuttons your shirt further and yanks it free from your suit pants. You put your hand behind his neck, and your tongue reaches to find his, tasting the whiskey in his mouth. His palm finds your waist, slides along your belt line, both turning your hips toward him and bringing his fingers to your belt buckle. Anticipation rushes through you, and your cock hardens. He pulls away from you as he unhooks the belt and winds it out of the loops. Before you can reach to meet him, Alicia’s hand finds your inner thigh and rubs heavily up over the now obvious bulge, and you let out a moan at the unexpected pleasure. You see that she is now in just a lacey pink thong, her body shiny with sweat. She has tan lines from a bikini top and her nipples are small and perked up. She is looking down at her hands as she undoes the hook of your trousers and unzips them, sliding both hands down the front and then around back. She directs your hips away from the table and works her way down, undressing you. She reaches back up and pulls off your boxers, studying your erection. You feel a intoxicating tickle as she kisses her way back up your thighs. You watch her work her way up your cock, and she wets her lips before kissing it, using one hand on your hip to pull you closer. You let out another moan and your pelvis heats up, then you reach down, weaving your fingers through her soft hair. You enjoy a moment, then pull her up hastily, wanting to feel her. You grab her tight round ass, pressing your cock against soft lace of her thong, eager to be inside her. She tears your shirt off your shoulders and you let it fall away. You hoist her up with ease, and carry her over to the wall. You lift her up high against it, taking her breast in your hand and mouth and causing her to cry out. She slides down the wall, until you pin her in place with your hip, hooking your arm under one leg. You drag your other hand down her slick abs and under her panties. Your heart pounds in excitement as you feel her soft and shaven, aside from a small strip of hair. You slip your fingers further down, feeling the wetness on her thong and finding it between her lips. You gently massage her, wetting your fingers and her clit. You hear her whimper as you start to find a rhythm, your cock aching to fuck her. You slide the lace to the side and push her thighs apart, bringing your dick up to meet her. You slowly press the tip inside her, kissing her hard on the mouth. You thrust your hips toward the wall and bury your cock deep in her, both of you moaning reflexively. Your body tenses up feeling her tight and wet around you as you start to fuck her, pressing her back into the wall, her ass in your hands. A wave of pleasure rolls through you. “God, you feel good…,” you whisper, slowing down as you already get closer. Just then, you become aware of Max behind you. He lays his hands on your lower back, pushing you deeper into her and holding you there. You let out a gasp and brace the wall with one hand, feeling his broad chest on your back. He lays a hand on your shoulder, kisses your neck from behind. “Oh... yes…,” you stammer, throbbing inside Alicia without even moving. You feel his hard cock brush up against you. He kisses your back as he strokes himself to get wet. He then explores slowly around you, tracing your tight ass with his finger, causing a rush of anticipation to shoot through you. He holds you still while he finds your ass with his cock. He enters you, slowly, giving you time to relax so he can work his way deeper. You kiss Alicia’s neck, grabbing her tits, stopping often at the pleasure of being taken from behind. You start to throb again as his cock slides past the soft spot, then buries deep into you, until his sweaty body is fully against your back and ass. He hardens and sighs in audible pleasure, and begins working into a pattern in and out of you. You follow his lead, matching your tempo to his. “Oh fuck… yes...” you say, unable to control yourself. Your whole body fires up as you get close. You feel Alicia writhing as you rub against her clit and Max thickening inside you, speeding up. His breath quickens against your neck, and he exhales, “God… your tight ass… your gonna make me cum…” With this, he starts pounding you, and your entire body finally contracts in pleasure. You throw your head back and let out an uncontrollable cry as you orgasm, releasing inside Alicia. Only a second later, Max tenses up and you feel his cock throb and he cums in you. You savor the moment, until Max pulls away, and you follow suit.

You rest on the wall for support and look around. Clothes are strewn about, and you are all drenched in sweat. “Well, that was… thoroughly enjoyable,” you say, earnestly. Alicia moves away and walks over to the billiard table. She finds your revolver and you sober up with annoyance. “That,” you say tersely, “is not for you.” She points it directly at you, expression steeled. “It is now,” she replies.

Max looks shocked. He puts one hand to his forehead and you watch, alarmed, as he begins chanting and his eyes glow. She laughs at him. “Sorry, Max, that’s not going to work on me,” she says giddily. “Although I have to thank you. I had no idea a shifter could take the form of a twig & twine doll!” She points the weapon at him, firmly gesturing for him to stay back.

Max looks confused. “I don’t understand,” he begins, “The body - she can’t be dead. Twig & twine dolls only die with their creator. As long as I’m still alive...,” he asserts.  
  
“No, not dead. Becoming the twig & twine doll was very enlightening. Not only do I know everything Alicia - the REAL Alicia - knew, but I have a deep understanding of the doll itself. I only needed a spell to immobilize the… thing to make it appear dead to you. It will be, soon enough. I just needed to make contact with you, so that I’m not in its form when you die. Just in case,” the shifter finishes, transforming into Max on the spot.

You process this whirlwind exchange of information, unsure whether to be annoyed that you let yourself get hoodwinked by this common shapeshifter, or relieved you were not actually with a bloody twig & twine doll. Both. Observing, you look for an upper hand, or an exit strategy.

Max starts to visibly unravel, and moves to attack the shifter. You have an opportunity to charge the shifter from the other side while it’s distracted, or move past it to the door. If the shifter has been holding it shut with Alicia’s magic, it may be possible to open the door while it’s defending itself from Max.

If you run for the door, goto ESCAPE BILLIARD ROOM.

If you fight, goto ENEMY FIGHT.

* * *

# ESCAPE BILLIARD ROOM

You know you only have a second to act, and the door is the more straightforward target. The instant Max launches with rage towards the shifter, you break for the door. You hear the unmistakably deafening explosion from the revolver. Your revolver, with witch-killing bullets. Without hesitation, you reach the door and throw it open, relieved that it does not resist. At the same time, you hear the reload. With the last shot still ringing in your ears, you hear another. You feel your body lurch forward moments before you experience the pain shoot through you. You drop to your knees, then one hand catches you as your body tumble forward. Your other hand instinctively reaches up to the new exit wound in your chest. You groan in agony, and cough blood as you try to breathe, fire filling your lungs. You hear footsteps behind you and struggle to move away, futilely. The shifter, in the form of Max, uses its bare foot to topple you over, and you land hard on your wounded back, blinded in pain and a fit of laborious coughing. When you reopen your eyes, you see yourself staring coldly down.

“Oh yes,” the shifter smirks as it quickly learns your body and history, “I will quite enjoy being you!”

You try to engage your muscles for one last fight, but they do not respond. You hear a gunshot ring out once again, and your consciousness fades quickly. Your final thought is not of monsters or men of letters or any of your many, many, oh so many partners, but of a model airplane you received as a child, long before the academy, and the unfettered joy you felt meticulously crafting it into being.

THE END

* * *

# THE KITCHEN

While the voices in the billiard room warrant your interest, they do not give any indication of immediate danger. Accordingly, you make a mental note to return and head toward the kitchen. On your way, you pass by the entry to the ballroom, with its door ajar. Hearing a beastly grunting within, you approach the door and silently push it open just far enough to see inside. Chupacabra. That is, chupa… Chupa. Cabra. Chupacabra. You silently admonish yourself for always stumbling on this - one of the rare words for which you self-consciously feel your true southern accent coming through. You observe the beast deep within, standing at the far back of the room. Fortunately, the monstrosity has its back to you, and has not noticed your presence. You debate entering and engaging the creature, but quickly decide that doing so would be ridiculous - nothing good could come from that! You pull the door closed as it was, and continue on to the kitchen.

When you reach the kitchen and pause to listen, you hear nothing inside. You cautiously open the door, your gun raised. The room is dark and empty, so you holster your weapon and turn on the light. You carefully observe the room, but don’t notice anything that would account for the noise that brought you here. You start to investigate, walking down a few stairs and around an extensive island. You notice a large cupboard at the back of the room and pry it open. You jump back with a slight startle as a dead body falls forward. Looking back into the cupboard, you see it is, in fact, a meat locker and step inside to ensure there is no active threat within. As you approach the back, you notice that the wall is angled open. It appears to be a secret door, presumably how the killer escaped. You look back at the body, weighing whether you should examine the evidence here or follow the secret passage.

If you investigate the body in kitchen, goto INVESTIGATE KITCHEN.

If you continue through the secret passage, goto THE SECRET PASSAGE.

* * *

# INVESTIGATE KITCHEN

You do not hear any sound coming from the passage, so you turn back towards the body, squatting for a closer look. A male, in his forties perhaps, with his neck broken - recently. Presumably, whatever caused this was responsible for the thud you heard before. There is nothing to be done for this chap, so you stand, intending to scour the room for signs of the killer.

As soon as you look up, you see a curvaceous woman on the short staircase, wearing a comically cliched but generously revealing French maid uniform. She releases a girlish startle upon seeing you, with your pistol aimed squarely at her head. She raises her hands in surrender, appearing nervous.

“S'il vous plaît,” she pleads with a thick French accent and a pout, “don't shoot!”

“And who,” you ask sternly, taking your time to look her over, “might you be, love?”

“Is… is this man dead?” She steps down onto the lower level, stopping as you nod the weapon at her.

“Quite,” you reply, keeping your eyes fixed. “You know him?”

“I have never seen this man before in my life!” she exclaims. “I am Yvette. I was hired to be servicing the dinner party, but before it starts the lights went out, and everyone disappeared. I just came in here to...,” she hesitates, then slowly lifts her long, thick leg up to so that her spiked heel rests high on the counter. This gives you a clear view beneath the layers of lace under her skirt. Her thighs are muscular but curvy, and your eyes follow them appreciatively up past a leg garter holstering a small flask. She moves her hands along the same path, seeming to take pleasure in the path of her fingertips. Then she grabs the flask and continues, “to have a drink.” She looks at you sheepishly as she swings her leg down and takes a swig from the flask. She licks her lips in a performance that is clearly exaggerated but no less seductive for it. She reaches the flask toward you in a bodily way that seems to be offering more. “Would you like some?”

After a moment of contemplation, you put your weapon away, and accept the flask. You take a long sip and barely hold back a choke on the low-quality but highly-toxic gin. “Mmm,” you mutter with a sharp exhale, “now that is something!”

She is watching you intently, and you feel a warmth circulate through you. She steps toward you, and you welcome it, long for it. As she approaches, you know immediately, with every molecule, that she is everything - all you've ever wanted. You would do anything for this one.

She stops in close proximity, standing between you and the island countertop. The lace of her petticoat brushes against your hip and shoots lightning through your body. It's a sign. You were meant to be. Forever.

She slides the flask from your hand and sets it on the counter. “It gets the job finished,” she says. Her lips are deep red coated in a wet glossy shine and her blonde hair is pulled up be beneath a lace headband, revealing her long porcelain neck, adorned with a black choker. You savor the sight of her full breasts, barely contained by the low-cut uniform, and then look up into her eyes. Her eyes! They are clear blue and full of warmth and wonder and comfort. She is everything you have been missing and afraid to seek.

Still searching her eyes, you stammer, “You… you are exquisite.” You turn to face her, propping one hand on the counter, letting the other barely graze over her waist, hesitant to touch her for fear she might run away. You need her here.

“Monsieur, you are too kind!” She heaves her chest up and forward, brushing against you with her tits. Desire races through your veins, raw yearning for her body and her soul. You finally let your hand lay confidently on her side, then slide it behind to her mid back. You pull her close, while leaning forward until she must bend back over the counter. With your cheek next to hers, you breathe in her scent and whisper to her. “Let me kiss you. You're so beautiful. You're all I want. I'll do anything. Let me show you...”

“Anything? Pour Moi?” She says, playfully. “Yes. Show me.”

You take your hand off the counter, reach under her layered mini skirt, and firmly grab behind her upper thigh. You feel the tension in the straps of her garter as you move your hand up the slope of her strong yet soft ass, fingers exploring underneath the hem of her ruffled panties. Your other hand follows a path up her strong back to the back of her neck. You use your thumb, tracing her jaw, then guiding her head back. You take one more lustful look at the smooth curve of her neck, then lean in with your whole body, pressing yourself against her, and bring your lips just below her ear. You give her a few soft and short kisses, but it is enough to raise a moan of excited satisfaction from your own lips. Tasting her is all you've ever wanted. Your kisses become longer and hungrier and make their way down to her choker. You grip her ass and hoist her up until she's balanced on the edge of counter. You support her as she arches back, pushing her round and flawless breasts in your face. You press your body into the counter, keeping her in place as you move your hand from her ass and lay your palm on her chest. You drag your fingers lightly over her cleavage until they find the adorned neckline of her uniform. You grasp the dress and tug it down, tucking your hand underneath her right breast, and freeing it from the uniform and lingerie beneath. Her large pink nipple is hard with excitement. You cup her breast, lifting her toward you again. Your lips toy with her as you kiss around her nipple. Finally, you take it in your mouth with long wet kisses and soft licks. She squeals in delight, biting her lower lip. You repeat the sequence for her left breast, this time as she runs her fingers through your hair and starts moaning throatily. The sound instantly stiffens your already erect cock. She guides your head away and down, and your pulse quickens with excitement.

“Show me,” she reiterates in a throaty whisper. With that, you pull her hips toward you while laying her down on the countertop. You put your hands on her stockings and press her legs open while your hands slide up. When you reach the straps holding her stockings, you run your fingers around and under them, then deftly unhook each strap. You kneel down, grab her legs, and rest them over your shoulders. As you kiss your way up her thigh, you breathe in the scent of her skin, exhaling with audible enjoyment. You reach her ruffled panties and work your hands to the top, yanking them down. You push her legs together, pulling them off while she props herself on her elbows and watches with a satisfied smile. You slip between her legs again, repositioning one leg over your shoulder, gently kissing the soft skin around her thick bush. Her smell is sweet and intoxicating, and you bring your hand up to spread her lips apart. You begin licking her, softly and methodically, getting your face wet with her pussy. Your cock is hard and throbbing, and you begin moaning as you move your tongue closer to her clit. All you want to do is taste her, and give her everything. You can feel her writhe, can feel her heat as she lets out a hungry cry. You take her clit in your lips with a gentle kiss and again, with a slight tug. “Yes, yes… right there… oooh,” she moans, arching her back and pulling her thighs in instinctively. You grab her hip and pin it to your shoulder, holding her still, and push her opposite thigh away in resistance. You lick her clit, finding a rhythm, gradually accelerating. You can feel her body tense up as she gets closer. She cries out repeatedly and loudly, “Oh God, don’t stop….” You moan, muffled, eager to bring her to orgasm, and wanting to give her everything you have. You hold her tightly now as she involuntarily squirms, holding your pattern of licking and kissing and tasting her. “Yes! Oh my god, baby, I’m there… yes…,” she says on the verge. She cums, yelling out as her body clenches and pulsates. You feel her contractions against your cheek and lips. “Oh god, my love. I would do anything. I’m yours,” you mutter, ecstatic to be a part of her pleasure. “Anything.”

She giggles at you, propping up on her shoulders once more. “That's sweet, baby,” she laughs. She grabs your head and pulls herself up to sitting. “But now I want you to have your turn. Then you will always be mine.” She lifts your wet lips to hers and kisses them. “Take me, and be mine. Forever,” she whispers with a smile.

“Yes, I love you. I will always be yours,” you promise. With that, you pull her off the counter enough to flip her around, pushing her stomach onto the countertop. You hike up her skirt, and take in the sight of her big, beautiful bare ass, with the garter straps dangling and her stockings slipping down. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect…,” you add, massaging her curves. You take one hand and quickly remove your belt. You unzip your pants, then reach into your boxers taking your already wet and throbbing dick in hand. You step close to her, at the same time scooting her off the table closer to you. You slip inside her, tight but well lubricated from her cum. Feeling her around you is euphoric, and your blood pumps wildly through your veins. You bury your cock deep in her, your balls smacking against her and getting wet from her pussy. “Oh my god… I’ve never felt anything like you before,” you stammer, genuinely. Your body flutters with love and excitement, and you start fucking her faster, watching her ass bounce. “Oh god, you’re so tight!” Your body heats up, and you’re close to exploding. “I love you, I need to be with you forever. Oh god,” you say. You grab her ass, pull her hips down and back to you, and drive into her. A wave of ecstasy rushes through your body and you let go and shoot your cum into her, crying out uncontrollably.

“Wow…,” you mumble, as your body finally stops throbbing. You pull out of her, then help her down from the table and hold her from behind. “You are unbelievable. Please, don’t ever leave me.” you whisper longingly, with your lips on her ear.

“You do not have to worry, baby,” she says, turning herself toward you. As long as you can do something for me…”

“Of course. You know I’ll do anything,” you respond, desperate to appease her.

“There’s someone else you loved, recently - I can feel it. I need you to get rid of her. She’s an obstacle; she’s keeping us apart. I need you to go kill her now,” she says, looking up innocently with her clear blue eyes.

You look down at her, wanting to comply, but a part of you resists, confused. “You mean Mary? You want me to… you want me to kill Mary?” You feel a pit in your stomach. You know you need to do this. You can’t let anything keep you and Yvette apart. But something doesn’t feel right.

Yvette angers at your hesitation. She pouts, “I thought you loved me. I guess we can not ever be together. I am so sad - I thought you truly loved me!”

“I do! More than anything. You must believe me, I can’t lose you,” you say, desperately. Even as you say it, you understand something is wrong. You can’t kill Mary. Something itches in the back of your head, something you recognize. A siren. Yvette is a siren. She has infected you. You don’t love her, you love Mary. 

“So you will then? You will get rid of her for me? You need to, so that we can be together,” Yvette pleads.

You are conflicted. You want nothing more than to be with Yvette. You absolutely must be with her. Of course you will do what she says. But… no. Not Mary. You focus intently on imagining Mary - her strength and her wit, her smirk, her scent. There. You know you can only hold this resistance for a moment. You weigh your options. You can try to escape to the Bentley to grab a bronze dagger to kill the siren, but you’re not sure you can resist long enough. You could fight the siren here, but you aren’t sure you can do enough damage to break the spell.

If you run for the door, goto ESCAPE KITCHEN.

If you fight, goto ENEMY FIGHT.

* * *

# ESCAPE KITCHEN

You know you need the dagger to kill the siren and break the spell. You close your eyes, concentrating on Mary and chanting her name in your head, then immediately turn to run up the stair and out of the kitchen.

“NO!” Yvette growls in a transformed tone, no longer sweet and seductive. “Get back here!” Just as you reach the door, you hear her slide a knife from butcher block on the counter. As you pull the door open, it strikes your back with surprising force, embedding deep and sending a sharp spasm through your body. You stumble, and the pain interrupts your thoughts, breaking your concentration. You fall against the door frame, wincing and turning back to Yvette as you slide down. Beautiful Yvette. She looks at you with sympathy.

“Mon Amour, how could you?” she asks, hurt. “I only wanted for us to be together. Now it is all ruined.”

Your physical pain is surpassed by overwhelming regret. “Please,” you plead. “You’re everything to me. Give me a chance. I just want to spend my life with you…”

She walks over and kneels next to you, putting her hand on your cheek in comfort. “You will,” she whispers, reaching her other hand to the knife still lodged in your back. You cry out as she pulls free the blade, causing a throbbing pain in its stead. Even still, her soft fingers on your cheek fill you with love and gratitude. “It’s all I want. To be with you. You’ll love me, then?” You ache, but you can think of nothing else but to have her with you every moment.

“Oui! I will be by your side until your dying breath,” she says, sweetly. She brings the knife over your heart and quickly sinks it in. You grunt and sputter as a blinding white sensation reverberates through your body. Yvette leans in and lovingly kisses your top lip, and your heart swells with relief and gratitude. She’s here. She loves me. You choke on your breath as your body struggles against the wounds, but your soul is filled with comfort. You spend your last dying moment imagining the life you will have together, and it’s the happiest you've ever been.

THE END

* * *

# THE SECRET PASSAGE

You push open the door to the passageway, listening. You hear nothing, but the walls are thick and muted. This is a darkness that swallows the sound, not one that throws it back in your face. You glance back at the body and decide it can wait. You retrieve the torch from your jacket to light the way, then start moving cautiously along the wall.

As you move further along, the silent depths of the path swallow you. You breathe in air thick with dust and mildew. Just as you start to question whether this leads anywhere of interest, the light from your torch catches on the corner of a large plywood plank laid against the end of the passage. You can tell from the layers of dust that this has not been disturbed recently, so it would seem you are not following a killer's escape route after all. Still, this could be a quicker exit than retracing your steps, and certainly a covert entrance would be advantageous, should an advantage be necessary.

You quietly move the plank aside, revealing the back of a fireplace. A sliver of light escapes one side, so you walk up to the space and listen. The light is on, but you hear no hint of activity. You pull out your pistol, then use your left hand to push on the edge of the fireplace until you feel the friction give way and the structure swings slowly and heavily open. You step into an empty study.

Just as you start a brief surveillance of the smaller room, you hear the doorbell ring. The study you have entered is near the front entrance, so you debate going to investigate. Before you decide, you hear footsteps hastily approaching to answer. You wait near the closed door of the study, listening. The door opens, and a girl's voice begins singing, cheerfully.

“I am your singing telegram!”

“Shhhh, would you,” a gruff voice with a pedestrian English accent interrupts. “Just get in here! You're late.”

This must be Mr. Nobody. You hear some muffled movements and cursing, then the door slams shut.

“He's already here, love. Somewhere. Here...,” he says, footsteps approaching the study, “Wait in here…”

You swiftly jump back and hug the wall just in time as the door opens. A young woman hurries in with her back to you, while the man closes the door mostly behind her without hitching it shut. He walks away with hurried steps. You wager you could slip out without her hearing and follow him, or you could confront her to see what she knows.

If you investigate the woman in the study, goto INVESTIGATE STUDY.

If you continue to follow the man, goto MR. NOBODY.

* * *

# INVESTIGATE STUDY

The girl clearly knows something, and you suspect you can persuade the information from her with relative ease. You watch silently as she sighs heavily, removing her little pillbox hat and dropping it on the desk next to an old brass candlestick. She is dressed in an antiquated telegram uniform, with a black mini skirt and elaborately decorated red and gold jacket. She reaches up and runs her fingers through her short, dark brown hair, mussing it up. The line of her neck, the shape of her hairline - it sends a familiar shock through your spine. You experience a memory from so long ago, it is reduced purely to its physical sensations, and a name… “Tori.” It escapes under your breath before you can stop it.

She whips around to face you. You heart stops for a moment. Even as you said her name, you didn't think it could actually be her. She looks just the same, exactly the same - high cheekbones, at once delicate and fierce, and those deep brown eyes, startled but studying you. Her caramel skin looks as soft and smooth as it did decades ago. When you regain your breath, you try to speak, but the only thing that comes out is her name. “Tori…,” you speak into the space between you, letting the questions hang in the air, unspoken.

“Ketch,” she responds, with all her composure regained. She looks pointedly at the gun you are still aiming at her. “It's good to see you, too.”

You sigh, and tuck your weapon away, satisfied that she isn't a threat. Or at least, not one that can be shot. “Tori, I-,” you stammer, uncharacteristically uncomfortable with any of the words that come next. “What… how… are you here?”

She looks you over for a few beats before answering. “Same as you, I imagine. Heard something big was going down, followed the leads here…,” she shrugs and glances away, then meets your eyes, “To check it out.”

“So you just came here on a hunt then, did you?” You ask, skeptically, finding your footing. “No, I don't think that's quite right. I heard you in the hall just now. You knew I'd be here. So let's try that again, shall we?”

She rolls her eyes, shrugging off the act. “Yes, I came here for you. Is that what you needed to hear? It's all about you. Just how you like it. God, you really haven't changed.”

“Indeed. Why change a good thing?” You scoff in an awkward attempt to the raw emotion that seeing her had stirred. You walk towards the desk where she stands. “But why find me now? And with whom were you speaking? Now... after all this time…”

You trail off, carefully sidestepping what you desperately want to know. Why did you leave? If you've been here, alive… why not with me? You feel a pang of betrayal seeing her standing here, nonchalantly. You think back to the last time you saw her, replaying the scene, as you have so many nights since. Tori, wet from the rain and desperate to leave after killing an elder in the Men of Letters. He certainly had it coming, as he notoriously demanded favors from the women - but the old guard would never accept it. She had been sloppy, and needed to run or they would execute her. You have never forgotten her eyes that night; it was the only time you'd seen them in fear, in need. You worked quickly, got identities in place, secured an underground safe house. You would leave before dawn. You tense up at the memory, pursing your lips together as if that alone could keep the emotions from rising. Every time you remember opening her door and seeing the envelope where she should have been, you relive the panic. She had gone, and they would be watching you. Seeing her here and safe, you fill with rage anew at the abandonment. Why? Why did you leave without me? After all I did for you?

“I got wind you’d be here. It was time, Ketch. I hated how we had to end things. But back then, I couldn't let you give it all up. It was your life. Your code…”

“No!” The anger pours out of you, becomes your driving force. You step into her space, standing close enough to tower over her. “You. You were my life! You knew it. Don't put that on me.”

“But that's exactly the point, Ketch!” She screams it back at you, matching your presence. “You made me your life, and I couldn't handle it. You weren't being rational. We couldn't go together - they would have tracked us so easily, and...,” she pauses and looks down at the desk before looking you in the eye. She relaxes from the defensive posturing and speaks apologetically. “Honestly, I didn't want to. I didn't want to have you there, controlling everything. I didn't want to be with you.”

Her voice is cold and full of false pity, but the words themselves burn through you, leaving you dizzy and flush. You reach out and grab her arms, as much to steady yourself as to force her see you, see what she's done to you. You pull her close, with your lips near her ear, and whisper in desperate frustration, “You're lying. I know you're lying. You loved me. How could you leave me?”

“Maybe you didn't know me as well as you thought,” she says, stepping closer. You release her arms and she reaches over your shoulders, laying her hands on the back of your head. Her body is so close to yours you can feel her heartbeat, and it knocks the wind out of you. “I'm here now. Doesn't that mean something?”

Your chest pounds and you search her eyes, trying to make sense of her presence and her words. Your hands have fallen to rest on her hips, and you feel them leaning into you. You want to speak, to yell, to lash out until she acknowledges how much her betrayal hurt, but physical desire rushes through your body, leaves you frozen with her body brushing into yours. Her hands pull your head down, so that your forehead rests on hers for a moment, and she whispers, “I missed you.” You feel her whole body against you as she raises onto her toes, lifting her lips onto yours. You meet them in a hesitant kiss with all the hurt still lingering there. It sends electricity through your body, waking you up, and you let it consume you. You pull her hips firmly into you and kiss her again, authoritatively. She lets out a moan of surprise, meeting your eagerness with her own. You let go of all your hesitation and take her, letting your anger and lust intertwine into these kisses that you’ve missed. “Tori…” you say, in an attempt to convey your need. “Ketch,” she responds. Hearing her say your name sends another wave through you, and you feel your cock harden, still pressed against her. She takes an almost juvenile delight in feeling this. “Well, Mr. Ketch, it’s good to know you still feel that way,” she teases. Before you can respond, she steps back from you with a wicked look in her eye. She hooks the toe of her high-heel under the rung at the bottom of the low-back stool tucked under the desk and slides it out so that it is right behind you. She playfully puts her hand on your chest and pushes you back, sitting you down with a bit more force than you remember her being capable of. She grabs the back of the stool, steps on the rung, and hoists herself up onto your lap, sweeping her other leg around to straddle you. You sit fascinated by this, feeling her thighs active as she keeps herself lifted over you by standing on the rung of the stool. Her skirt rides up and you can see her white cotton bikini. You slide your hands up her outer thighs and under her skirt, tucking your fingers under her panties and grabbing her tight ass. You pull her down onto your lap, until she’s pressed against you. “God…” you mutter and kiss her, on fire as she shifts over you. You move your hands to reach under her jacket, but its stiffness is restrictive. You pull away from her kisses and reach up, swiftly unhooking the elaborate buttons from the top down. With only a few left, you impatiently rip jacket open and pull her back in. She grunts and falls against you, letting you slip the jacket off her smooth shoulders. “God, you’re beautiful… your skin…” you say, kissing her flawless neck and chest. You reach up her back and unlatch her bra, watching it release forward and down off her shoulders. Her breasts are full and her nipples are hard with excitement. You run your hands up her small waist and over her tits, feeling their soft weight and watching them fall as you slide past. She is, incredibly, the same as you remember, and seeing her sends a rush of nostalgic lust that thickens you. You hungrily take her tit in your mouth, dancing your tongue around her nipple as she gasps. You feel her pull back, and you try to resist, wanting to keep her on you more than anything. She grabs your hands and moves them off of her body with surprising strength, hopping off your lap. Before you can object, she turns her back to you, reaching back to the skirt zipper. She opens it and slips the skirt down off her hips. She catches her panties on the way down and drags them off as well, bending over and showing off her smooth round ass for you. She steps out of her clothes, still wearing her heels, and turns to face you. Fucking hell, her body... She steps between your legs, rubbing your thighs and dragging her hands to your belt, feeling your cock on the way. She undoes the belt and unhooks your pants, finds the zipper and tugs it down, studying you as your hard dick pushes through. You watch as she bends down, with her lips near you as she pulls down the front of your boxers, then kisses and caresses your throbbing cock. “Oh god... baby…” you stammer as you take in the sight of her. After a moment, she stand up, steps on the stool rung and swings back onto your lap, completely naked except for her heels. You feel her soft and already wet pussy brush against your bare cock, and moan as you ache to be inside her. She kisses you deeply as she lifts herself up with on foot on the stool rung, then reaches down and guides your cock into her, slowly lowering herself so that you push deeper and deeper inside. She feels tight and warm, and you place your hands in small of her back to follow her movements as she starts to ride you. She leans back, putting her weight in your hands completely. She starts fucking you with a steady rhythm, crying out and holding her hands above her head, giving you full beautiful view of her breasts bouncing. “Fuck me, baby, oh god…” you say, unable to control yourself as your pelvis heats up and you get closer. “Yes, Ketch! I love feeling you inside me, baby. Hold me...” she says, breathlessly. She pulls her hands down, placing one on your leg behind her and reaching down to her clit with the other. She starts massaging herself as she fucks you, slowing her pace and gradually speeding up again, working her fingers in circles around her clit. You feel her pussy tighten around you as she starts moaning louder. “Fuck, Tori… I can’t take it. I’m so close. You’re gonna make me cum…” She is barely listening as she is clearly close herself. You hold her hips down on top of you and she reaches up and grabs her tit while still working herself over. She looks at you, barely able to keep her eyes open. “Ketch, baby I’m gonna cum, oh fuck, yes… yes…” She yells, loudly, closing her eyes and throwing her head back. You feel her pussy get wetter and contract around your cock. You cry out, push yourself further inside her. Your body tenses up as you explode inside her, unable to keep yourself from screaming in pleasure. Your entire body throbs, and you pull her toward you, wrapping her tight in your arms. “Baby…” you mutter. You want to tell her how much you love her, how much you missed her, but all you can do is hold her here. She lets out a satisfied sigh against your chest, and moments pass as you breathe against each other. “Ketch.” she says finally, “I forgot how much fun we have together.”

“Well,” you respond, “I did not.”

She lifts herself off you, stepping down. She kicks off her heels, scavenges for her clothes, and begins dressing. You straighten yourself up and watch her. “What if we could do this now, Ketch? What if we could be together, like old times. Hunt together....” She walks back over to grab her jacket and leans into you. “Say you’ll come with me.”

“Come with you, and leave the Men of Letters?” You are surprised, but actually consider the offer. We could have so much fun. You know, however, that it’s not a real possibility. You have obligations now, and frankly, quite enjoy your work. As hurt as you were, things really did work out for the best.

“Why not? We could be together again. Finally. Just say the word.” She’s buttoning up her jacket, looking at you skeptically.

“I think you know I can’t, and…” you pause, standing up and smoothing your tie and jacket. “Honestly, I don’t want to. But it has been a pleasure getting… reacquainted.” You give her a smug look and turn to leave, but feel her hand on your shoulder. She turns you back toward her with incredible force. Inhuman force. You look down at her hand with confusion.

“Well then. I didn’t think you’d agree, but you can’t say I didn’t offer,” she says. She pushes you back and bares sharp, threatening teeth. “Bloody hell, you lying vampire bitch!” you scream at her, feeling a renewed sense of betrayal.

She laughs at you. “You know what? This was your fault, Ketch. You led me to that safe house. Turns out it was a nest, and I didn’t stand a chance. But,” she says, looking you over like a meal, “I’m glad. I’m the one in control now. And you are NOTHING.” You sense her tense up and know she is about to attack you.

You look around the room. You can throw the stool between you to buy some time as you run for the door, or you can try to physically overpower her and take her out.

If you run for the door, goto ESCAPE STUDY.

If you fight, goto ENEMY FIGHT.

* * *

# ESCAPE STUDY

You quickly step behind the stool and push it toward her. Without waiting to see if it stops her, you turn back toward the door and make a break for it. You hear the sound of something sliding off the table as she growls in frustration, then hear her foot strike against the stool. As you reach the door and push it open, Tori lands heavily on your shoulder from above, having launched herself off the stool. Her momentum forces you tumbling into the door frame, crushing your opposite shoulder and knocking your head hard against the wall in the way down. When you land, she lifts herself off of you, unphased, as your vision fades in and out with pain. You feel wetness dripping down over your ear, but try to focus on her. You fumble as you reach into your jacket for a knife, and she easily kicks your hand away, jamming it into the wall as you groan in sharp pain.

She kneels down over you, caresses the side of your head, weaving her fingers through your hair. Your head is pounding and your impaired vision makes her seem distant. She grabs your hair with one hand and violently pulls your head back, causing you to wince. She puts her face close enough to yours that you can feel her breath and whispers, “It’s not too late, Ketch. I could turn you right now.” She kisses your lips, biting them and tasting you.

You try to turn away, and choke as you spit back at her. “Crazy fucking bitch. I won’t let you turn me.” You pour all your energy into throwing her off of you and crawling toward the door, but she is barely phased and effortlessly pins you back to the ground with her knee, hard enough that you involuntarily whimper as your breath is knocked out of you.

“Your choice, babe.” You try to focus on her and work out how to regain any advantage. You see her raise her other hand, clearly holding something. The candlestick from the desk. You attempt to drop your shoulder and roll out from under her, but your shattered shoulder only responds with immense pain. Her knee digs into you as she swings down with full force, crushing the candlestick into the side of your face. All at once, you hear several bones crunching, feel your jaw dislocate and your eye split. You vision throbs and disappears, and your consciousness begins to wave. You try to speak, even though you no longer understand what you wanted to say, and all you can do is gasp. You can’t seem to focus on any individual thought, but your body seems to reach back in time and fills you with the past sensations you had with Tori. Hunting with her, your amazement at how well she predicted and complemented your style, your appreciation of her skills. The adrenaline rush that came with inexperience, when living through it was even less a guarantee, and all the ways you released that build up together. The smile she gave you after, that made you believe it would last forever. Even though you can’t replay any specific moments, you experience them physically, simultaneously, and it pulls you from the struggle. You let go, into the comfort of these visceral memories, until your last breath escapes you.

THE END

* * *

# MR. NOBODY

While the girl still faces away from you, you silently push the door open. You spot the man you presume to be Mr. Nobody entering the dining room across the hall. You quickly slip out of the room and close the door, careful to avoid latching it. Satisfied that you have not been detected, you cross the hall and hug the opposite wall, inching toward the dining room. You listen, hearing movement and sounds of effort. You gather he is dragging something… presumably a body. Just as you are considering whether to enter the dining room and confront him, you hear him walk briskly back toward the door to the hall. You back step along the wall and stealthily duck into the thankfully empty lounge just as he opens the door. With the door ajar, you watch as he takes a beat to look around the hall. As he turns, you get a clear view of his profile and inhale sharply. Not possible. He’s dead. Shot him myself.

As soon as he is satisfied that the hall is clear, he begins walking back to the study. You open the door and walk into the hall, revealing yourself with your weapon ready and aimed at him. “Mick,” you say, in a tone at once accusatory and curious. “What brings you here, perchance? And, if you don’t mind my asking… aren’t you quite dead?”

Mick Davies spins on heel toward you, weapon already drawn. “Ketch.”

“Indeed.”

You face each other in an impromptu duel, slowly pacing the hall, keeping distance. Mick speaks up again. “Well then,” he says, glaring at you. “I guess we get to have a proper chinwag after all. Although I have to admit I was hoping one of these bloody monsters would have done the dirty work by now.”

You raise your eyebrow in bemusement. “Monsters? Ah yes. I was informed there would be a whole shindig. I was looking forward to it, really. But unfortunately I haven’t had the pleasure.”

Mick stops in his tracks, looking exasperated. “Wait, wha- are you bleeding kidding me?! You haven’t been attacked by any of the bloody monsters?! That’s what they were here for - I brought them here specifically because they wanted revenge on you. I can’t lie, I’m a little miffed.”

“Well,” you answer calmly. “It is hard to find good help.”

“Innit.” Mick redoubles his aim at you, but remains silent.

“So,” you continue, “You came back from the dead - somehow - just to plot an overly-complex revenge scenario... all for little old me? I’m flattered, I suppose. Though to be quite honest, I don’t know why you’re so upset. It wasn’t personal, Mick. I rather enjoyed you, actually.”

Mick scoffs. “No! You know what? That’s not my name. You KNOW that’s not my name. I am not ‘Mick Davies’ - that’s THEIR name. THEIR indoctrination. I’m bloody well done with that, I am. And so should you be, Alex.”  
  
You cringe hearing the name. It’s been so many decades. The subtle name change was just one of the many tools employed by the British Men of Letters to separate new students from their old lives. Made perfect sense, really, and you had been more than happy not to hear the name your father called you ever again.

“Alright. Mitch Davis, if you insist,” you say, speaking his birth name with an almost comical emphasis. “I can call you whatever you’d like to be called. And then what, we’re square?”

“Square? Are you mad?! You shot me in the back of the head!”

“Well, yes, I suppose I did technically pull the trigger. But like I said, nothing personal. If I hadn’t done it, they only would have sent someone else. And in any case, it doesn’t seem to have had the… usual effect.”

“Only thanks to a crossroads deal. Made it a couple years back after they blamed me for that bad intel on the rugaru. Got to feel it first-hand, for a change, how expendable we are to them. Decided I needed the insurance.”

“At the cost of your soul? That seems extreme, for someone such as yourself, who understands the value of such things.”

“Oh,” Mitch laughs. “No. I didn’t sell my soul. Jesus, I’m not daft. Just offered information that was valuable to a crossroads demon and readily available to me, and I was quids in.”

“And here we are.”

“YOU FUCKING SHOT ME IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD!” Mitch shouts in frustration at your apparent apathy. “You. After all we’ve been through together. I know we’ve had our differences, but at the end of the day, we always had each other’s backs.” He approaches you slowly, closing the distance between you.

“So, you’re going to shoot me then. Get your revenge. Live happily ever after and all that.”

“No, Alex,” he says as you cringe at the name. “I don’t want to shoot you. I will if I have to, but where’s the fun in that? After everything you’ve done. To me, to anyone who’s cared about you.” He makes a show of disarming himself, tucking his weapon away. “I guess the rational thing for you to do is to just shoot me again. Right here, right now. Like the bleeding coward that you are.”

You consider it for a moment, but ultimately put away your weapon. You are confident you can take him out however he wants to play this. And it can’t hurt to get the practice, keep the wheels greased, so to speak. You brace yourself as you step cautiously closer to him, in fighting distance. You circle each other for a tense moment, then he lunges in to grab your arm and pull you close. At the same time, he tries to land an uppercut in your gut. It hits, but you had already shifted your weight away from him, lessening the blow and pulling him off balance. You jab quickly in his jaw as he is still righting himself, then push your weight forward for a strong punch from the other side. Mick - Mitch, whatever - gets his forearm up in time to block it. He turns the block into a grab by locking his arm in yours and using it to lean you back, causing your torso to be exposed. Before you can pull yourself back in, he jabs you in the gut again, this time catching you square and causing you to double forward in pain. You get your hand out in front of you before you fall, then use your lowered position to back kick the side of his knee. He grabs his knee and grunts in pain.

“Goddammit. You don’t even know the damage you cause. People care about you. I cared about you!” He screams at you, moving in close. You brace for another punch, but he swiftly presses his shoulder into you, leveraging your body weight to flip you to the ground. You land hard on your hip and shoulder and wince. You moan as you push through the pain to roll back up to standing. You look at him coldly. “No, you didn’t. You cared about having my help when you needed it. You saw me as a tool as much as they did. You didn’t care - you just stayed on my good side to make sure I’d come when you called.”

You lurch at him, first kicking his already wounded knee to throw him off-balance, then punching him repeatedly in the face. “You can lie to yourself as much as you want.” Punch. “Tell yourself what a great,” punch, “caring,” punch, “guy you are.” Punch. “But don’t bother lying to me.”

Mitch brings his forearm up more quickly than you can react and hits your chin, snapping your head back. He gets in an uppercut on your jaw, then brings up his opposite arm and elbows you in the cheek hard enough to send you reeling. “You’re right. I don’t need to lie to you,” He continues as you stumble back. “You know that I covered for you at my own personal risk. Over and over. I helped you clean up when the agents you were fucking found out about each other and threatened you. Got them each assigned to a hunt with you. And they were good, too, we could have used them. But I helped you, because we’re mates, and everything we’ve been through.... It was worth protecting. It means something.”

He stands prepared to fight, but doesn’t continue advancing. His face is swollen and his lip is split from the punches. You can feel blood pouring out of your nose and back behind your sinuses. You relax your stance a bit. “Huh,” you snort, weakly. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about the whole ‘shooting you in the back of the head’ thing. You must know I didn’t have a choice in that moment. And it killed me to see you like that….”

Mitch lowers his fists. You both seem to agree that the fight is over. “Yeah, I know. Following orders. But that’s the thing, Ketch. Their orders… it’s not right. You don’t need it anymore. You don’t need them.” He walks over. You tense up at first, but you can see his resignation. He puts a hand on your shoulder. “Look, you can go. Just walk out of here. I can’t tell you where to go, but I hope you can see that the Men of Letters… it’s over. They are dying under the weight of their own ruthlessness. It won’t last, not anymore. They have no authority here in America, and it’s been waning in Europe. That’s why they are so desperate to build a presence here in the first place. Just don’t go down with them.”

“That’s it, then?”

“Yeah, Ketch. I’m tired. I’m tired of anger, revenge. Just go. Or you know what? Even better. Go kill some of these monsters. Have at it. I’m leaving. And I doubt we’ll ever see each other again, so have a good life... mate.” With that, he turns and walks for the door.

You think about what he said. You don’t necessarily disagree - the British Men of Letters is struggling, certainly. But it’s who you are. What you are. And you know what you have to do.

You silently reach into you jacket and pull out your gun. Just as Mick - Mitch, whatever - opens the front door, you take careful aim and pull the trigger without hesitation. His head jolts forward, and blood covers the door in front of him. You step slowly over to the body, still woozy from the fight, and look him over. Dead. Hopefully it will stick this time. You make a note to inform the cleanup crew to incinerate his body and clear the mansion of any monsters. You step over him and out of the mansion, heading to the Bentley.

You open the door and sit in the driver's seat, feeling the caress of the leather seats. You wait for a moment, in silence, then methodically don your driving gloves and start the engine.

You’ve got a lot of work to do, and it’s time to move on.

THE END

* * *

# ENEMY FIGHT

You make your move against whichever enemy it is you’re facing. However, the circumstances that led you here have also put you at a disadvantage. After a brief struggle, you opponent overtakes you. You make one last attempt, using all your remaining strength to gain the advantage that would work against this particular adversary, but your efforts come up short. Your new arch rival finishes you with a brutal fatality specific to his or her character. Rest assured, it is messy and painful, but at least your death is quick.

THE END


End file.
